


No Control Who Lives, Who Dies

by ibonekoen



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, This started out as just smut, and then feels happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibonekoen/pseuds/ibonekoen
Summary: Memories help heal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the Hamilton song History Has Its Eyes On You. Also a feelsapalooza.
> 
> Written for a prompt at the LJ comm comment_fic

"Why now, Peggy, after all these years?" Howard mumbled against her lips as her frantic fingers unbuttoned his shirt. He heard a frustrated noise from his partner and then the tearing of fabric and the plinks of buttons hitting the floor. "Hey! I _liked_ that shirt!"

"Bloody hell, Howard, I'll buy you another one," Peggy hissed as she yanked the dress shirt off his shoulders and down his arms.

She was avoiding the question, and desperation bled out of her.

"Wait, Peg, slow down."

"No more talking, Howard," she demanded in what he liked to call her Director voice. It never failed to send a tingle through him, which sometimes proved awkward in meetings with generals and officials. 

She yanked off his undershirt, and then she kissed him again. He tasted the bourbon they'd been drinking on her tongue, and a little voice whispered to him that this was a bad idea.

He ignored it as she went for his belt, and he gave in to a yearning he'd had since the Second World War when she'd shot him down time after time. He wrapped his arms around her and tugged the zipper of her dress down, letting the black material land in a pool at her feet. He groaned as her hand slipped into his trousers and past the barrier of his boxers to wrap around his cock.

"Oh," he breathed. 

She flashed a sassy smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "This old girl's still got a few tricks."

\--*--*--

Later, as they collapsed into a sweat-drenched heap on the too-small motel bed, he remembered his unanswered question.

"Why now?" He kept his voice quiet, uncertain she would even give him an answer or whether he even wanted one.

She lay silent for long enough that he thought she might be feigning sleep to get him to drop the subject. He sighed heavily and was just shifting onto his side when she whispered "You're all I have left."

He shifted back to face her, staying silent in the hopes that she would continue.

She sniffled softly. "Howard, I just buried Daniel. Steve died during the war. Jack-" Her voice caught, and she exhaled a trembling breath. "I have no one else to turn to for comfort. No one to- to share memories of the old days."

His throat clenched, and he gathered her in his arms. He held her tight and stroked her hair and whispered "I'll always be here for you, Peg."

She wanted to tell him not to make promises he couldn't keep, but she just leaned into him and basked in his closeness. 

\--*--*--

Her heart shattered when she got the phone call in the middle of the night that Howard and Maria had been killed in a car accident. She stood beside Anthony at the graveside, stoic and strong for her godson, who fought not to show how much he was hurting.

She didn't like the familiar way that Obadiah Stane rested his hand on Anthony's shoulder or how he remained at the young man's side, acting as his mouthpiece and making decisions regarding Stark Industries that Peggy felt he had no business making. 

Bourbon warmed her that night as she thumbed through old photo albums, and Anthony appeared hovering over her shoulder at some point. It was late enough that the funeral goers had retreated and the staff had cleaned up. Stane has thankfully gone to bed, and for that, Peggy was grateful.

Anthony's eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles, and she felt certain he hadn't slept in days. She didn't try to shoo him off to bed; just simply patted the space beside her on the floor, and he sank down, back braced against the couch. 

"Did I ever tell you how your father and I met, Anthony?" she asked as she poured him a bourbon and set the glass on the coffee table in front of him.

"No offense, Aunt Peg, but I can't- I don't wanna hear stories about him right now," he muttered, his voice rough and ragged from crying.

She smiled ruefully. "It hurts, Anthony, I know, but let me let you in on a little secret -- memories help heal. It hurts at first, but I promise you, sharing memories will keep them alive in your heart."

He sniffled and gulped down some of his bourbon. "Okay, hit me. Tell me how you guys met."

Her smile softened and she began to tell him stories of his father's adventures until he ended up falling asleep, his head pillowed on her shoulder.

She laid her head atop Anthony's and sighed softly. She still bore terrible holes in her heart for each loss she'd suffered, but perhaps they could finally begin to heal. Just as long as she kept their stories alive.


End file.
